Missing You
by ryagelle
Summary: Gift fic for whiner, based on her lovely pic 'Sleepyhead'. Post Unexpectedly Blue, Wheeljack/Bluestreak, slash, G1, warnings for mech smut. Thanks to VAWitch for the title!


Written as a gift for naggingfishwife, based on her Wheeljack/Bluestreak pic 'Sleepyhead'. Post Unexpectedly Blue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any other characters or settings you may recognize; all of these things are the property of their respective owners and I make no profit from the writing of this.

Warning: This story contains adult material of the plug-n-play variety between two characters who are, by personality at least, male. If this offends you, please do not read.

* * *

"Hey, Wheeljack, guess what!" Bluestreak crowed jubilantly as he bounded into the engineer's lab one evening. He stopped with a sheepish expression when the startled Lancia cursed and nearly dropped the device he'd been working on. "Sorry 'bout that, 'Jack, I didn't mean to scare you—that, uh, won't blow up if you drop it, will it?" he asked anxiously, peering at the little mechanism.

The only warnings that Bluestreak received of his bondmate's intentions were the sly tilt to his optics and the vague thread of mischievousness beginning to weave its way into their link; when Wheeljack leaped at him and bellowed, "BOOM!" at the top of his vocalizer, Bluestreak shrieked and fell backwards to the floor. The inventor doubled over with laughter as the gunner recovered from his near spark-attack and gave him a reproachful look.

"That wasn't funny, 'Jack, not funny at all," Bluestreak insisted, grudgingly letting Wheeljack help him to his feet. "You scared the slag outta me—quit laughing!" He swatted the Lancia's shoulder, but it didn't keep his partner from chuckling to himself. Bluestreak crossed his arms and huffed petulantly, trying his best to keep a scowl on his face with his lover's amusement infecting him through their bond.

"But the look on your face was _priceless_," Wheeljack told him gleefully, pulling the younger mech in for a hug over his protests. "Oh, now, don't pout! What was it you wanted to tell me, anyway?"

"I don't think you deserve to know, after all that," Bluestreak sniffed, pretending terrible injury to his feelings, though the engineer could feel the laughter and excitement bubbling up in the Datsun's part of their bond. He took a moment to marvel in the sensation; the bond was still so very new to the both of them.

"It's still incredible, isn't it, Wheeljack?" Bluestreak asked softly, catching the warm turn his bondmate's thoughts had taken. He pressed a kiss to the mask covering the lower half of his lover's face and wrapped his arms around his neck. Wheeljack just held him tightly and nodded, vocal indicators flashing with satisfaction.

"I take it your patrol went well?" the engineer asked finally, breaking the silence between them.

Bluestreak shrugged. "Nothing happened," he replied. "We went out, we drove around for a while, we saw _absolutely nothing interesting,_ and we came back. It was the most boring patrol ever. I wish you hadn't been so busy today. I would have liked to talk to you—it might have made the time pass a little faster. It felt like it took forever. At least Beachcomber didn't seem to mind talking to me."

Wheeljack winced—he was well aware that Bluestreak was very carefully not thinking about the way that he had been neglecting the gunner for his work over the last couple of weeks. "Sorry about that," he said apologetically. "It's just that Prime—"

"I know," Bluestreak reassured him. "I know it's important, I'm just… frustrated I guess." He brightened. "Which reminds me! Prowl gave me some good news, and I wanted to let you know myself." He grinned at his bondmate, good humor restored.

The Lancia couldn't help but smile beneath his faceplate in response, optics crinkling at the corners. "Oh? And what would that be? Or do I deserve to hear it, now?" he teased, and the younger mech snorted in amusement.

"I might as well tell you, since you'd just use underhanded means to get the information later anyway," he laughed, sensing his lover's plans for 'interrogating' him.

"Guilty as charged," Wheeljack leered, pressing their foreheads together and running the fingers of one hand carefully along the edge of one of the Datsun's doors.

"Mm, that's nice," Bluestreak murmured, leaning into the older mech's caress. "Anyway," he continued, doorwings twitching as he tried to ignore Wheeljack's continuing advances and deliver his news, "Prowl said that he's rearranged the duty roster for tomorrow—" He pulled back enough to beam happily at the inventor. "It seems we've both got a free day, after all!"

The engineer pushed him out at arm's length, keeping his hands on the gunner's shoulders. "Really?" he asked, "We do?" Pleased surprise filled his voice and his half of their bond, and Bluestreak's grin grew impossibly wider.

"We really do!" the grey mech laughed, moving back in to hug his lover again. "I think Prowl felt sorry for me, 'cause we hadn't got to spend much time together for what seems like _forever_—"

"Oh, it hasn't been forever," Wheeljack chuckled. "It hasn't even been a month. You're just insatiable. This old mech has had a hard time keeping up with you," he teased.

"You're not _old_," Bluestreak protested, poking the Lancia in the side. "And besides, you're calling _me_ insatiable? Hmph!" He fell silent for a time and leaned against Wheeljack contentedly. "Are you finished for the day, or do I need to stop distracting you?" he asked, sobering a bit.

Wheeljack pulled away reluctantly. "I'm almost done here," he said, apologetic. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise." He temporarily allowed his mind to entwine with his bondmate's in a sort of mental caress. Bluestreak sighed quietly, pleased even with the brevity of the contact.

"I'll hold you to it," he said softly, unwillingly breaking away from the warm intimacy of their link. Wheeljack watched him go with a pang of regret, and determined that he would do everything in his power to make tomorrow memorable for his lover.

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Wheeljack ended up not getting back to their quarters until after Bluestreak had gone into recharge, but he was already up and waiting when the gunner onlined the next morning. He had already gotten enough energon for both of them, and once Bluestreak had had his fill, he casually told the young Datsun to get ready, because they were taking a trip.

Bluestreak blinked, not quite certain he'd heard his lover correctly. "We're leaving?" he asked, confused. "Where are we going?" He had been looking forward to spending a little quality time alone with the engineer, and it surprised him that Wheeljack apparently had other plans.

The gunner could see by the way that the older mech's optics crinkled at the corners that he was grinning like a Cheshire cat beneath the facemask. "Well, if I told you, it would spoil the surprise," he said, obviously trying hard to hide his amusement in both his voice and their bond. Bluestreak snorted.

"If you say so," he said doubtfully, unable to help the little thread of disappointment that wormed into his voice.

"Oh, Blue, you'll like it, I promise," Wheeljack said soothingly, drawing the young grey mech into his arms for a quick hug. "Now, come on, I want to get out of here before anyone realizes that we're gone. I have no desire to be caught by _anyone_ with some 'little' problem that 'can't possibly wait'." He lowered his voice. "The only mech I want to see today is you." Bluestreak shivered and nodded.

Miraculously, they did manage to escape the _Ark_ without seeing another soul, though Bluestreak surmised that that was due more to the unholy hour than anything else. He permitted himself a brief—and very private—lament that his bondmate was such an early riser.

Once they were well clear of the base, he let Wheeljack goad him into a race regardless of the fact that he knew better than to compete with a racecar. (It was not that Bluestreak was that slow, it was just that Wheeljack was that _fast._) Despite having lost rather spectacularly, it had still felt wonderful to do something as frivolous as race for the fun of it. All too often, the races they participated in were a matter of life and death, with Decepticons close behind.

They spent the morning alternating between driving along aimlessly, just talking and enjoying one another's presence, and playing with gleeful abandon, dodging and swerving around each other like a couple of overgrown sparklings.

At around midday, Wheeljack led him down a dirt side road to a grassy, sparsely wooded rise. "This looks like a good enough place to stop for a while, don't you think?" he asked, transforming and looking around curiously.

"I suppose," Bluestreak replied, still in alt mode as he nosed around trees that were big even to them. "It seems pretty peaceful. How'd you find it?"

The engineer shrugged. "I just wanted a place where we wouldn't be disturbed, and the road looked unused enough. I just picked it at random, really." His vocal indicators flashed in amusement.

"Spur of the moment, huh?" Bluestreak chuckled. Wheeljack nodded, sitting down next to the gunner and giving the grey hood a gentle caress. "That works for me," he added, and transformed to curl into his lover's embrace. He sighed contentedly. "I wish we could do something like this any time that we wanted to," he mumbled, burying his face in the engineer's neck.

"I know," Wheeljack replied softly. His arms tightened around his bondmate of their own volition. He let the bond unfurl to its full strength between them for the first time in far too long; once again, he regretted the differences in their rank and positions that necessitated him blocking the gunner out at times. :I'm so sorry, Blue: he whispered mournfully into the Datsun's mind. :It's not fair to you—you deserve a bondmate who can devote his full attention to you…:

Bluestreak jerked his head up to stare at Wheeljack in shock. "You don't regret—"

"Oh Blue, no! That's not what I meant—I could never regret this," Wheeljack said hastily, laying a careful hand on the gunner's chest, above his spark-chamber. "You of all mechs should know that." On impulse, he unfastened his mask, tossed it to the side, and then met his bondmate's lips in a tender kiss. He projected reassurance across their bond, and felt his spark thrill at the way the Datsun responded.

Bluestreak didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, desperately soaking up every bit of attention that his lover was willing to give. Wheeljack felt another momentary twinge of guilt for his neglect of the younger mech—and then they were fully immersed in the bond and there was no room for anything but their love.

Bluestreak quickly took charge, guiding the engineer to lie on his back in the grass, kissing a trail from his lips and across his jaw and then along his throat. Wheeljack tilted his chin up to give him better access; he shuttered his optics and sighed in pleasure at the sensation of the gunner's warm mouth caressing the tender metal skin there.

At first it had surprised Wheeljack, how often his bondmate took the lead in initiating intimacy. Not that he complained, of course—when the younger mech practically pounced on him, it made him feel wanted, desired, attractive.

And _that_ absolutely _floored_ him.

He ran his hands along the Datsun's doors and pressed them into the sensitive joints where the neural nets for both winglets met his main sensor grid; Bluestreak cried out and arched above him. In retaliation the gunner slipped his fingers into an armor seam in the inventor's side, stroking circuitry and wiring and making Wheeljack gasp.

He keened and nearly lost it when the dark fingertips tapped against his spark chamber, and he could feel Bluestreak's satisfaction at his response even as the younger mech shook from the echoes of what he was doing to his lover in his own systems. Neither spared a thought for creating a physical link between them; their bond was strong enough to make it unnecessary.

Once he had regained his senses somewhat, he became conscious of what he'd done without even thinking about it; while one hand was still busy with the joints of the gunner's doorwings, they other had found its way beneath Bluestreak's plating and up against the Datsun's own spark chamber. Bluestreak shrieked at the sensation, and Wheeljack suddenly realized that the grey mech had never experienced having his spark chamber caressed firsthand. He'd only felt it by proxy, on the very infrequent occasions that he'd done it to the inventor.

Wheeljack grinned, and deliberately traced a finger along the chamber's seam—and Bluestreak moaned long and loud as he overloaded. The overload cascaded into his own systems; and then, just as it was beginning to fade, Bluestreak managed to brush his hand up against the Lancia's spark chamber again, and it flared back in full force. Wheeljack screamed hard enough to cause his vocalizer to short into incoherent static.

The engineer didn't even realize that he'd fallen offline until he was waking up; his internal chronometer told him that it was late afternoon. Bluestreak was still out—he didn't even wake when Wheeljack sat up and rearranged him to lean against his side with the gunner's back to him, wings splayed out and head lolling down with his chin on his chestplate. The Lancia patted around for his mask and found it without having to move, and chuckled warmly at the innocence of Blue's resting face as he put it back on.

He lost track of how long he spent watching his exhausted lover recharge. There was something peaceful about it; it was so rare that Bluestreak's rest was untroubled, even after they had bonded. Granted, the nightmares had eased, and Wheeljack could often soothe his bondmate back into sleep afterwards, but they still plagued the young mech.

Finally, the gunner stirred groggily.

"Ready to wake up, Sleeping Beauty?" Wheeljack teased softly, one hand draped across the grey chestplate while the other gently traced the edge of one doorwing.

Bluestreak mumbled something unintelligible, and the engineer laughed.

"I'll take that as a no," he murmured, optics bright with amusement.

"Hrmmphf," was the only thing that the younger mech could manage to say, unshuttering one optic and cocking his head to look up at his bondmate.

"Completely speechless? I must be good," Wheeljack said, laughing again. Bluestreak snorted inelegantly, taking a swat at him and missing.

"Love you," the Datsun said quietly, once they'd settled back down. Wheeljack sent his own love back across the bond, letting Bluestreak _feel_ the depth of his emotions. The grey mech wrapped himself up in it like a blanket, reveling in the sensation of such complete devotion.

"We should probably be getting back," the engineer said regretfully. He squinted up at the sky; it wouldn't be long before dusk, and they needed to return to the _Ark_ before search parties were sent after them, if they hadn't been already.

"I guess so," Bluestreak said reluctantly. "I wish we could stay for a little longer, though," he added, smiling wistfully at his lover.

"I know what you mean." Wheeljack hugged the gunner tighter for a moment before clambering to his feet. "Ohh, Primus, but I'm stiff," he complained, stretching to ease the kinks in his frame.

"That's what you get for recharging on the ground," Bluestreak teased, grinning brightly as he got to his own feet. "Among other things," he added slyly. "After all, it's not every day you get your circuits blown like that!"

The engineer cuffed him lightly. "Cheeky thing," he laughed. "You'll get as puffed up as Sunstreaker if you don't watch it."

"I feel kinda entitled to it right now," the gunner replied smugly. He sobered a little, and his voice deepened and became a touch hoarse. "I know I don't have a lot of experience to go on, but… Primus, 'Jack, that was—"

"—incredible," the inventor finished for him, pulling the younger mech into his arms. "I've never felt anything that… intense before. And we never even connected, not physically," he whispered, cupping Bluestreak's cheek with one hand and pressing their foreheads together.

The Datsun hummed softly in agreement. "You know, a year ago I could never have imagined being here with you like this," he said quietly. "Pit, I barely even knew you, really! But now, I can't imagine anything else. I love you, 'Jack."

Wheeljack smiled at his bondmate warmly, knowing that he would see it despite the mask. "I love you too, Blue," he breathed, tightening his hold on the gunner. "And I know what you mean—about not being able to imagine us being any other way. I am so _grateful_ that I'm the one that you chose to love." He pulled away reluctantly. "And now we really do need to get going," he added ruefully, noting that the sky was beginning to darken into twilight.

Bluestreak started; apparently he'd checked his internal chronometer. "Primus! Is it really that late? They've probably sent someone out looking for us by now!" He transformed and revved his engine, and Wheeljack laughed at his impatience even as he transformed himself.

"C'mon, then," the engineer said, pulling out onto the little road, "I'll race ya back!"


End file.
